Miss Julia Renews Her Vows (32 page)

From the quick glare she aimed at me, I knew she understood what I was saying. But that didn’t stop her from suggesting that I lie down and rest. “You’re very pale, Julia. I fear you’ve overdone it, what with working in the kitchen and all.”

I fumed, because she’d not offered to help, yet here she was criticizing me for preparing the food she’d eaten.

“Sam,” she said, turning to look up at him, “you must see to it that she takes care of herself. We want our Julia to stay mobile as long as she can. It’s ever so much better that way for all concerned.”

“Francie . . . ,” I started, then restrained myself as Sam smiled and winked at me. If he could see through her, then I didn’t have to bother.

Having collected her cane and pocketbook, Francie turned toward the door. “Sam,” she said, taking his arm, “walk me to the car, if you will. I’m still not too steady on my feet, having just gotten out of the hospital, after suffering such trauma as you wouldn’t believe.”

“I’ll be happy to,” Sam said, as he opened the door and escorted her out.

I watched as they went down the walk, Francie walking ever so slowly and leaning slightly on Sam. She continued to talk the whole way and kept him stooped over her car after she’d climbed in and closed the door.

As Sam finally walked away from the car to return to the house, I quickly took myself to the living room and sat down. Pretending to have been engrossed in the newspaper, I looked up when he came in.

“That woman can talk, can’t she?” he said, as he picked up the remote control. “You feel like watching a football game, sweetheart?”

“Not especially, but you go ahead. What was she talking about that kept you so long?”

Sam sat on the sofa beside me and clicked on the television. “Same thing she talked about the whole time she was here: her feelings, her problems, how she’d go back to Florida if it weren’t for her duty to stay here.” He flipped through several channels, bypassing golf, thank goodness, and settling on football. “I never did find out what that duty was, but she told me she felt it was her calling.”

“My goodness, maybe the prayer vigil Pastor Ledbetter and Dr. Fowler had with her is paying some dividends. Which is too bad if it results in her joining our church. I’m not sure how much more of Francie Pitts I can take.”

Sam smiled. “I know what you mean. But she does seem concerned about you, and that makes her easier for me to take.” Sam put his hand on my knee and left it there.

Sam didn’t seem too wrapped up in the game, so I ventured another question. “Did Francie have anything to say about Etta Mae? She completely ignored her at lunch.”

Sam laughed and cocked an eyebrow at me. “Advised me to lock our bedroom door at night. She thinks Etta Mae might attack us in our sleep.”

“Oh, for goodness’ sakes!” I cried. “Sam, that woman’s out to ruin Etta Mae. Even if Lieutenant Peavey’s looking elsewhere, which I hope to goodness he is, Francie’s determined to punish her in some way. You might not have picked up on this, but the reason Francie showed up here today was to inveigle Etta Mae into working for her again, so she was trying to get you to fire her.” The blatant nerve of the woman just frosted me good. I sat up and stared at him to be sure he understood the seriousness of the matter. “She
knows
Etta Mae needs to work, and if we let her go, she’d have to take whatever she could get. And after Francie gets through spreading such rumors, nobody’ll hire her. Then Etta Mae’d have to work for Francie, which would put her right in line to be set up again and put in jail. Francie Pitts is a malicious woman and that’s all there is to it.”

Sam pulled me back against the sofa so that I was leaning against him. “It doesn’t matter what she’s trying to do, sweetheart. Etta Mae’s safe here with us, and it looks as if we’ll need her for a long time to come. Anyway, Binkie seems to think that they’re looking in a different direction, so as long as Francie has no opportunity to make more accusations, then Etta Mae is safe from that, too.”

“I hope you’re right,” I said, sighing. Then sat up with another thought. “Have you found out anything about Francie’s maid or companion or whatever she is?”

“Evelyn? Not much. She doesn’t have a record that I can find, but there’s only so far I can go in looking. Her address is on Spring Street, that little lane off the boulevard, so I drove by to see it. It’s one of those small houses built by some local volunteers to rehabilitate the area.”

“Don’t you have to show need to get one of those houses? How would Francie manage that? Because I heard she bought it.”

“Evelyn must’ve bought it herself, because you’re right. There’re strict requirements on who gets the houses.”

“Yes, and some way or another, Francie has worked it so she can take credit for it. That woman!”

“I did find out her name. Oh, man, look at that tackle!”

“What?” I glanced at the television and saw a pile of bodies on the screen. “Oh yes, that’s something, isn’t it? So what is it? Her name, I mean.”

“Plemmons. Evelyn Plemmons. Seems her previous license was from Coral Gables, Florida, which makes sense because you said that’s where Francie had been living. Anyway, she’s sixty-four years old, has gray hair and blue eyes, and stands five feet four inches. That’s all the information I could get.”

“So she’s a little old lady,” I said, then realized with a start that she was younger than I was—not by much, but some. Still, she
sounded
old. “I mean,” I hurriedly added before Sam could laugh at me, “somebody said she was old and frail, and Francie implied that Evelyn wasn’t able to do much.”

All of a sudden we heard feet running overhead and on the stairs as Lloyd came bounding down like a thundering herd. “They’re home! They’re home! Miss Julia, Mama’s here!” he yelled, as he flashed past us and out the front door.

Etta Mae came down the staircase behind him, but much slower, standing back as if she weren’t sure of her place. Sam and I hurried to the door to welcome the newly wedded couple. At my first glimpse of Hazel Marie as she met Lloyd with open arms, I thought, no, she wasn’t quite as big as a house, but she was well on her way. Twins in a small woman don’t have any room to grow except outward, and that’s what they were doing. And thank goodness, the evidence of their growth was covered by a loose maternity top, and not one of those stretched-out T-shirts some women wear that aim their bulging navels at you like a headlight on a train. It’s enough to make your own stomach revolt.

“Hazel Marie, honey, you look wonderful,” I cried as she came into the house. “So rested and well. Welcome home, but where’s your husband?”

“He’s unloading the car,” she said, smiling broadly. “I’m so glad to be home. How is everybody? Mr. Sam, it’s so good to see you. And Etta Mae!” Hazel Marie hurried over to hug her friend. “How did you know I’d be home today?”

“Well . . . ,” Etta Mae began, but stopped because she didn’t know where to begin in recounting all that had happened in the past week.

“Etta Mae’s here to help us out,” I said. “I’ve been feeling run down, and we knew you’d need an extra pair of hands, so she’s working for us.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Hazel Marie said, but she looked a little dazed at the thought of having a baby nurse before having any babies.

Mr. Pickens came in lugging a pair of suitcases, with Lloyd right behind him with an armful of boxes and packages.

“Well, we’re back,” Mr. Pickens said, putting down a suitcase and shaking hands with Sam. “I hope you can stand us for a while.”

“Oh, we can stand you, all right,” Lloyd said, his face alight with pleasure. “We sure have missed you.”

After the newlyweds had gotten settled in the downstairs bedroom, which Sam and I had vacated when Hazel Marie had been ordered to stay off the stairs, we sat around the kitchen table eating leftovers and catching one another up with all that had happened. Hazel Marie told again about the massages they’d had and about the walks around the hotel grounds they’d taken and about Mr. Pickens’s house in Asheville, which, I was relieved to hear, they did not plan to live in.

“Not much is selling these days,” Mr. Pickens told Sam. “So I told the agent to put it up for rent.”

Then Hazel Marie, still not understanding Etta Mae’s presence, asked her about her job as a Handy Home Helper, so that gave us the cue to tell about Francie Pitts and her accusations, plus the dreadful anxiety that Etta Mae had been under as a leading suspect.

Mr. Pickens cast a worried look at Etta Mae. “Can I do anything to help?”

“You certainly can,” I said before Etta Mae could open her mouth. “You can find out who actually attacked Francie, because we know it wasn’t Etta Mae. She just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time, or almost at the wrong time, because she was long gone before anything happened to Francie.”

“Why don’t I talk to Binkie tomorrow?” Mr. Pickens suggested. “See if she needs me for anything.”

Etta Mae ducked her head, unaccustomed to such concern from someone she hardly knew. “Thank you,” she murmured.

Mr. Pickens glanced at Hazel Marie and took her hand. “I’m supposed to go to Birmingham to look into an insurance fraud case, but if Binkie thinks I can help, I’ll put it off for a few days.”

“Oh, J.D.,” Hazel Marie said. “Don’t talk about leaving.”

Lloyd, who’d been avidly following the conversation, quickly changed the subject. “Mama, have you thought of what you’re going to name the babies?”

Hazel Marie immediately perked up. “I’ve thought of a million of them. But we don’t even know if they’re boys or girls or one of each. J.D. went with me to see the obstetrician that Dr. Hargrove recommended, and they let him see the sonogram. We couldn’t tell what was what, but the doctor could. But we said we didn’t want to know, so we don’t. We want to be surprised, don’t we, J.D.?”

“It’ll be a surprise, all right,” Mr. Pickens said, and I could imagine just how big a surprise it was to him already.

“But you’ve thought of some, haven’t you?” Lloyd persisted. “Tell us what you might name ’em.”

“Well,” Hazel Marie said, her face glowing at the thought of what was to come. “If at least one of them is a girl, I’m going to name her Apple.”

There was dead silence around the table as we considered the chosen name, and only a few of us were able to glance at one another.

“Apple?” Lloyd asked.

“Yes,” Hazel Marie said, “I just love the name. And that’s what Gwyneth Paltrow named her little girl, and ever since I heard about it I’ve wanted to name mine the same thing.”

We all continued to sit without comment, although Mr. Pickens had to turn his head and look out the window. Finally, when he’d gotten himself under control, he said, “Honey, you might want to rethink that.”

“Why?” Hazel Marie asked. “Don’t you like it?”

“Mama,” Lloyd said, a delighted grin on his face. “Think what her whole name will be.”

“What?” Hazel Marie said, frowning. “Why, it’ll be Apple . . .” She stopped as a distressed look crossed her face.

“Apple Pickens!” Lloyd cried, laughing. “I love it, but I don’t think she will. I’ll be taking up for my little sister for the rest of my life.”

We were all able to laugh by this time, but Hazel Marie looked crestfallen at how unsuitable her favorite name would be.

“Don’t worry about it, honey,” Mr. Pickens said, as he put an arm across her shoulders. “We’ll think of something even better. And think of this: they may both be boys.”

“Oh, I hope they are,” Hazel Marie said, clasping his free hand and kissing it. “And I hope they’re as sweet as you.”

“Yuck,” Lloyd said at this lovey-dovey display of affection.

“And,” Mr. Pickens added, smiling at him, “boys just as fine as their big brother.”

“Double yuck,” Lloyd said, grinning as his face reddened with pleasure.